


sock it to me with your finger-snap rhythm

by FoxGlade



Series: #hashtag 'verse [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Gen, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark's Collection of Reasonable People, polyamory negotiations by people who do not identify as polyamorous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxGlade/pseuds/FoxGlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, staring him down. “Get out there, save some baby orphans, build prosthetic limbs for injured cats, save the world the way you want to. Then come back.”</p><p>“I can’t build things,” Bruce says without thought. The hand on his shoulder tightens.</p><p>“So bring them back here, and I’ll do it. Come back when you need to.” He’s not talking about amputee cats.</p><p>[Pepper and Tony and Bruce, the ways they fit together, and how they figured it out. A #hashtag 'verse side story.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. may december

**Author's Note:**

> if you're not a fan of pepper/tony/bruce, or of tony/bruce, or of tony/pepper, you can skip over this one and not miss anything in the main storyline of this 'verse. i just needed to sketch out what was happening with these three, and i ended up with this monster WIP. sorry about that.
> 
> full disclosure: i have been to exactly one of the destinations described. i'm thinking it'll be pretty obvious which one. i apologise for any geographical/cultural errors, and if anyone has any corrections, feel free to comment.
> 
> title from Sweet Dreams by Split Enz

**_May_ **

He doesn’t think twice before grabbing his bag off Natasha and throwing it in the backseat of Tony’s car, and it’s only when they’re driving away from the others that he thinks to shout over the wind, “But I’m only going to stay for a few days, you know that, right?”

“I will make those days count, Brucie,” Tony replies, gunning the engine.

They’re in the lobby when a tall woman Bruce recognises as Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, strides out of the elevator with dignity and plants herself in front of Tony.

“Oh my God, I was watching on the news, are you okay-?”

“Yeah, I was trying to call you, why the hell didn’t you answer the phone?”

They continue to argue in a sort of desperate way, both of them stressed and worried, and Bruce fidgets and wonders if he could just leave now without Tony noticing –

“But hey, if we’re on the subject, this is the guy who saved my life about three dozen times the other day.”

“Once, Tony, I was actively endangering your life the other times,” Bruce replies without thinking, then stiffens and shoots a worried glance at Pepper. She looks amused, without a hint of accusation or fear.

“You couldn’t endanger me, you’re like a sad puppy. Who turns into a slightly bigger, slightly angrier puppy,” Tony says. Pepper covers her mouth with one hand, but her eyes betray her laughter.

“I take it you’ve been taken hostage by him?” she asks, smiling. “It’s how he shows affection, I promise.”

“I, uh. Thanks,” he mumbles. He’s not sure if he’s blushing because of how awkward he feels next to her smooth, unshakeable persona, or at the thought of Tony bringing him here out of affection.

“See, I knew you’d love him,” Tony tells Pepper, slinging an arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “I’m going to show him the labs, get some things set up, but be on our floor for dinner around seven, okay?”

The labs are amazing, but he never doubted they would be. They mess around late into the afternoon, bouncing ideas and theories off each other, sometimes just enthusing about the subjects they have no one else to talk to about. By the time seven comes around, Bruce’s stomach is protesting the fact that he hasn’t eaten since the apple he palmed off a distracted SHIELD agent’s desk this morning, but he’s gone without food for much longer, and the occasional pang is soothed by Tony’s excited grin each time.

“JARVIS, order some pizza, the usual order. Add in a veg pizza for the good doctor here,” Tony calls out when he notices the time. “You’re a vegetarian, I just know it. Am I right?”

“No, I- I mean yes, I am, but you don’t have to,” Bruce begins, but Tony just waves a hand dismissively at him.

“Ms Potts requested I order the pizza twenty minutes ago, sir,” JARVIS says, and even though the AI has been giving frequent statistical input to their discussions all day, it’s still unnerving. “They are currently on your private floor, as is Ms Potts.”

“Shoot. Let’s run,” Tony says to Bruce with a childish grin, then grabs his hand and pulls him out of the labs towards the elevator, laughing the whole way, and Bruce can’t find it in himself to protest.

The next three days are spent in much the same manner, and when the time he’d told himself he would leave arrives, Bruce finds himself selfishly wanting to stay forever.

“You don’t have to leave,” Tony says, voice casual, but he’s holding onto Bruce’s wrist in a desperate grip that seems disproportionate to what he should be feeling. It’s only been three days, after all. “I can build a Hulk-proof floor that’s ten times more secure than the Helicarrier’s and fifty times less like a prison. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, Tony,” Bruce sighs. He prises Tony’s fingers off his wrist and picks up his duffel bag. “I- I’ve been in New York too long. Agent Romanoff said she’d give me an airlift down south.”

“I don’t trust her,” Tony says immediately. “She stabbed me once, long story, but you probably shouldn’t go anywhere with her. In fact, I don’t really trust anyone except Pepper and Happy and Rhodey and you, so really since most of these people are in fact right here, it would be better if you just stayed here.”

“Thanks.” The embarrassing part is, he really means it. “But I need to go.”

“You don’t _need_ to,” Tony argues, but it lacks heat. “Look, just – keep in touch? Don’t give that phone I gave you away to the first starving family you meet, okay, I will find them and take it right back, don’t misunderestimate me.”

Bruce laughs, and wonders at the fact that he’s laughed more in the past five days than he has in the past three years. “Misunderestimate? Really?”

“It’s a classic Bushism,” Tony replies, mock serious. “Use it in your travels and think of me.”

“I will.” It comes out less amused, sweeter than he means it too, and Tony’s expression softens.

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, staring him down. “Get out there, save some baby orphans, build prosthetic limbs for injured cats, save the world the way you want to. Then come back.”

“I can’t build things,” Bruce says without thought. The hand on his shoulder tightens.

“So bring them back here, and I’ll do it. Come back when you need to.” He’s not talking about amputee cats.

“I will. I promise.” He steps back, slipping out from under Tony’s hand, turning away and heading off to find his ride, duffel hitched over his shoulder and a stare burning into him as he walks. He doesn’t look back.

 

 

**_July_ **

“Construction on the tower’s almost done, so Pep and I are packing up and moving back to the west coast for a while, and may I remind you that you’ve never even _seen_ the Malibu house, so you should probably-”

“No, Tony.” French Guiana is nice, this time of year – the humidity is finally dropping slightly, and the rain season will be ending in another two months. Not that he’ll be here to see it, of course. He’s in Cayenne, finally, after three days of alternatingly hiking and catching rides along the road from Macapá, Brazil.

“Someday you’re gonna say yes, big guy, and I’m excited to think of what I’ll be asking when you do,” Tony says in his ear, voice sultry.

“Knowing you? Probably something along the lines of, ‘Hey Bruce, I probably shouldn’t build suits for all my friends and give them as Christmas gifts, yes?’”

Tony makes a wordless, enthusiastic noise that has Bruce laughing in the middle of the markets he’s traversing, and he grins at a young woman who eyes him curiously. “That’s a great idea, I don’t know what you’re saying to me.”

“ _Désolé, mon ami est un débile_ ,” Bruce says to the woman, who giggles.

“Hey! Now I _do_ know what you’re saying,” Tony yells over the phone. “Are you in France? Africa? Have you hooked up with some French traveller? Did I interrupt you whispering sweet nothings in _français_ to each other?”

" _Tu me peles le jonc_ ," Bruce replies, but he knows Tony can hear him smiling. He’s been wandering the markets for almost twenty minutes now, has been talking to Tony on the phone for nearly the whole time, and is still yet to find a Chinese dumpling stall. It’s disappointing, but it’s also entirely possible he just missed one while distracted by Tony. Even on another continent the man is still distracting him.

“ _Ma_ _chérie_ , you say the sweetest things,” Tony sighs, and Bruce couldn’t stop himself from laughing if he tried.

 

 

**_September_ **

“If it’s so cold, let me come pick you up,” Tony argues. Bruce hunches further down in his jacket, which is feeling a little worse for wear after the travel path he’d been following. “Just tell me where you are.”

“It’s not that cold,” Bruce says. He doesn’t regret spending the last of his money on a hot meal instead of a bed for the night; there’s a woman in Ağrı who wants his second opinion on her son’s illness, and she’ll pay him enough to last until he gets into Iran. “Please don’t fly into-” He stops himself before he can give it away.

“Aha! It’s a war zone, isn’t it? Somewhere in the Middle East, probably, you’ve been heading that way.” He gets closer every time he calls, and Bruce has grown to love his fierce intelligence but not at the moment. “Come on, I won’t even drag you back home. Just let me drop you off a better jacket and some cash.”

“No, Tony,” he replies, but it’s wistful. Things were so much easier when he was running with no one to trust, no helpful billionaire calling him up every few days to try and convince him into coming home. Back. Into coming back. On the phone, Tony blows out a frustrated sigh, and Bruce suddenly grins. Nice to know that _he’s_ being the frustrating one, for once.

 

 

**_October_ **

“How do you feel about Buddha?” Bruce asks, phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear as he hands over a single note in exchange for a bag of the deep-fried rice balls the stall specialises in. He’s fond of markets. “ _Kaadinchhey la_ ,” he adds to the man running the stall, bowing his head slightly.

“Seems like a pretty swell guy, but I’m not the religious type. Why, you looking to convert?”

“I’m already a Buddhist, Tony.”

“No, I mean, are you looking to convert _me_?”

“Just wondering if you’d like a souvenir,” Bruce says. The wind is biting through his threadbare jacket, the soles in his boots wore out somewhere between Yemen and India, and he’s down to his last fifty _ngultrum_ , but he’s the happiest he’s been since Tony dragged him out of the labs to eat pizza.

He’s only been to Bhutan once before. He remembers it vaguely, with the distant sense that he’d been half-delirious with some sort of fever at the time, but he remembers it as a good place nonetheless. And being back here, walking the roads with the stray dogs that roam these paths, hitching lifts from gravel trucks and laughing in shocked fear every time they pass another oversized truck on the mountain roads barely wide enough for one of them, visiting the temples and _dzongs_ and conversing with the locals in whatever common tongue they could find, freezing in the bitter Himalayan air (he definitely chose the wrong time to get his hair cropped) and loving every moment of it… well, it’s a good thing the phone Tony gave him gets reception everywhere, or he might forget to leave.

“So you’re in, what, Tibet now? Nepal?” Tony’s voice as crackly, halfway across the world, and Bruce clings to it as he sits underneath a string of prayer flags next to the main road and opens his bag of treats. “That language you spoke sounded right for the area, and they’re big on the whole Buddha thing there.”

“Close enough. I’m in Bhutan.”

“Never heard of it. You want me to fly in tomorrow?” Bruce snorts.

“No, Tony.” He reaches into the bag and grabs a rice ball, chewing on it with satisfaction. It’s barely nutritious, not at all filling, and he’ll be sick from all the oil in it once he’s finished them, but right now, they’re exactly what he wants. “There’s one single international airport in this country, you know,” he says. “This country is so mountainous that only around three pilots in the world are legally allowed to land there.”

“Like I’d use the airport,” Tony retorts, but there’s something off in his tone that gives Bruce pause.

“Tony, are you alright?”

“Peachy keen, jelly bean.” Bruce waits patiently, and after a few moments of staticky silence, Tony sighs and continues, “Pepper’s been away on conference for a few days, won’t be back for a week.”

It amazes him, sometimes, how much he’s learned about Tony from reading between the witty banter and affectionate jabs in their phone calls, these past four months. He knows that Tony almost died from palladium poisoning and didn’t tell a soul until after he found the cure, and he knows that he doesn’t actually like the taste of coffee all that much but he’s been addicted to it since he was a teenager (he knows what else Tony’s has been addicted to, hears it in silences and bitter words). He knows that Tony gets bored easily, but once he’s fixated on something he won’t ever let go – especially if that something is a person. And he knows that Tony Stark, genius playboy billionaire philanthropist, cannot stand even the thought of being alone.

“But it’s fine,” Tony continues flippantly. “Haven’t even noticed. I’ve been down in the basement the whole time. I keep finding variations in the specs for the suits, keep finding improvements. Lost count of how many new suits I’ve made,” he lies. Bruce hears the anxious edge in his voice and it feels like a punch to his gut.

“Is Rhodey around?” he asks, voice gentle. “What about Happy?”

“Just you and me, big guy. Well. Just me.”

What can he do? He’s halfway around the world from Tony, sitting in the dirt at seven thousand feet above sea level. It’s not like Tony’s breaking down as they speak, and he’s not in any state of panic that Bruce can talk him down from. The early signs of anxiety are showing, and the most Bruce can do is try to push them back for now.

“Maybe you should come,” he says, injecting as much reassuring warmth as he can into his voice. “You’d like it here.”

“Yeah? How so?” He can hear the challenge in Tony’s voice. He thinks of saying, “The people here are so friendly that you can never feel alone, no matter where you are.” He thinks of saying, “There are so many dogs, it’s like animal therapy but _all the time_.” He thinks of saying, “Because I’m here.”

Instead, he says, “The people here view the painting of phalluses on walls, and keeping phalluses in their buildings, as good luck.” There’s dead silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments, and then Tony starts laughing wild, uncontrollable hoots of laughter.

“Are you _shitting_ me, oh my _God_ , if you are making this shit up Bruce-“

“I am not capable of making this up,” Bruce says, holding in his own laughter. “It’s tradition, and it’s part of their culture in a way that people in Western cultures can’t-“

“ _They draw dicks on their walls and keep dildos for good luck_ ,” Tony howls.

He’ll be alright.

 

 

**_December_ **

The phone calls get less frequent and more manic as the weeks pass, and he finally gives in while crossing the border from Burma into Laos. By the time he’s arrived in Vietnam, Bruce is ready to hesitantly ask Tony to wire some money to the phone so he can buy a plane ticket. It’s the right decision.

“This means you’re coming back, right?” The tinge of desperation in Tony’s voice makes him want to get angry, to wreck and destroy anything he can get his hands on. But he hasn’t lost control since May, and he’s standing on a busy cracked sidewalk in Hanoi, so he doesn’t.

“I’m staying here for a week or so, but after that, I’ll be on the plane to California.”

“Home for Christmas?” Clearly Tony’s trying for wry, but he falls short, and it comes out as a plea.

“Yes, Tony. Home for Christmas,” Bruce replies.

“Hey, you finally said yes,” Tony cheers. “If I’d known all it took was a little begging…”

Around him, there are flashes of red and green, hints of Christian celebration in a city of Buddhists. The green flashes gold in the sunlight and Bruce suddenly misses Tony with a fierceness that shocks him.

So it hurts him worse than it would have six months ago, when the phone calls abruptly stop and he’s left alone on the road to Ho Chi Minh City, with only his thoughts and other, equally silent travellers for company. By the time he reaches the city, he’s become convinced that something terrible has happened to New York, that the Avengers had once again assembled but founds themselves outmatched without the Hulk by their side, that Tony is – incapacitated. With stumbling feet he abandons the road into the city and heads for the airport.

He books the soonest flight to LAX and then walks around the airport, trying to fill the seven hours’ wait with something other than fretting and manic speculations, and by the time he stumbles on a room with an international news channel playing he’s worked himself into such a state that he can only watch the story unfold onscreen with a sinking dread.

“-though Stark’s Malibu home was destroyed in the attack, witnesses report seeing him flee the scene in his Iron Man armour,” the reporter says. “As of now, he is still missing.”

There’s a family sitting on a couch in front of the TV, faces politely interested, and for a moment Bruce can’t understand why they aren’t panicking like he is. He has the phone out before he can even think, pressing the first speed dial button and lifting it to his ear with the air still frozen in his lungs.

“You’ve reached Tony Stark’s personal number, so your message must be pretty import-“

He hangs up and redials, praying that the next number will answer.

“Pepper Potts.” She sounds stressed. Bruce can’t blame her.

“Pepper? It’s me. Ah, Bruce.”

“Bruce! I’m guessing you heard.”

“Only just now. It’s on the news here, it says your place got destroyed and Tony was in there when it happened, were you-?”

“Yes, I was there, no I wasn’t hurt,” she reassures him. He breathes a miniscule sigh of relief, then looks up to see the family watching him with wide eyes. He gives a sheepish smile and steps away, turning his back on the images of destruction still playing on the screen. “Tony’s fine too, I think. He sent a message via the suit.”

“Thank God,” Bruce mutters, and rubs a hand over his face. “My plane leaves in around seven hours, I’ll get into LAX around…” He trails off. What can he do in California? Tony isn’t there, Pepper doesn’t need him.

“Can you change over to a New York flight?” Pepper asks, and her business-like tone is all Bruce needs to snap out of his sudden panic.

“Yes. Uh, I mean, I think so. Probably.” He starts to head back to the booking desk, glad he traded in his duffel for a sturdy backpack somewhere in Brazil.

“Okay. Get on a plane to any airport in New York. I’m stuck in a motel right now – long story – but when I can, I’ll get someone to pick you up and take you to the tower.”

“No, really, I can stay here-“

“Tony will need you,” Pepper says simply. And that’s that. “We’ll go back to New York after this is all over, and you better be there, alright?”

“Alright. Okay.”

He’s talked to Pepper maybe three times since they met, but he’s damned if he doesn’t love her as much in that moment as he loves Tony.

\---

There’s no ride waiting for him at the airport, and he knows without looking at a TV screen that whatever’s happening with Tony and Pepper, it’s not over.

He debates making the walk to Stark tower and slumming there until the both of them arrive, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. After seven months of hard travel, waiting in the lap of luxury sounds wonderful, but in practice it would more likely drive him crazy. He can bear a few more days of sleeping in less than ideal conditions.

When he walks past an electronics store four days later, meandering his way from New Jersey to Manhattan, he sees the dark footage of an oil tanker blowing up, sees the scrolling banner announce IRON MAN RESCUES PRESIDENT, and walks on. His steps are a little quicker than before.

The receptionist on front desk at Stark tower is politely disdainful of him and his travel-stained clothes and backpack, and he smiles at her shocked expression when he ambles up to the private elevator and inputs his retinal scan, allowing himself full access to all floors, courtesy of Tony Stark. He thumbs the button for Tony and Pepper’s floor, and waits.

They’re both waiting for him when the door opens, and he doesn’t even take a step before Tony is crashing into him, not saying a word, just digging his fingers into the ragged fabric of his jacket and breathing deep. Pepper is looking at him with sadness and compassion in her eyes, so he doesn’t question it. He just rubs Tony’s back, swaying a little like he’s comforting a child, and lets his forehead drop onto Tony’s shoulder.

“Said you’d come back,” Tony says a minute later, not loosening his clutch on Bruce’s jacket.

“So did I,” Bruce reminds him. Tony huffs and finally steps back, wiping at his eyes so quickly that the movement is barely noticeable.

“Course you did. Well, most of you did. What the hell did you do with your hair?”

“I cut it?”

“Don’t like it,” Tony replies immediately, reaching up and carding a hand over Bruce's scalp. Bruce is torn between pleasure and confusion, but that's a default state with Tony, so it's more comforting than anything else. “Grow it back. Please.”

With the kind of social tact that she so famously possesses, Pepper chooses this awkward moment to re-enter the area, carrying three glasses of something that looks hot and smells medicinal, which is a winning combination for Bruce right now. She kisses his cheek when he takes one of the glasses off her, and says, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Words can’t describe the kind of peace he feels, standing here at this moment; even knowing that Tony is not at his most mentally stable, even knowing that there are people out there who could need his help at this very second, even knowing that he should never have let himself be convinced into coming back at all. Even knowing that nothing in the world could possibly be anywhere near perfect right now, he still feels like this moment – Pepper smiling with a manicured hand on his arm and Tony gripping the back of his neck like Bruce’ll disappear if he lets go – is pretty damn close.

“It’s good to be home,” he replies. Because for the first time in a long time, he really, truly is.


	2. january white

**_January_ **

“Bruce! Bruce, big guy, Brucey-bear!”

“Yes to the first three, no to that last one,” Bruce replies, carefully balancing both coffee cups in one hand as he taps out his access code to the workshop. Inside, Tony smirks at him, eyes warm behind the grease smudges all over his face, before going back to the blueprints JARVIS is projecting around the room. “What the hell have you been doing down here?”

“Thinking up some new armour schemes. And don’t give me that look,” he adds, pointing a screwdriver at Bruce, who holds up his hands and tries to look innocent. “It’s just the one suit, then I’m done.”

“I trust you,” he says simply, and Tony shoots him a pleased look. “I’m just wondering how your face got so dirty if you’re only looking at schematics.”

“It’s a talent, and one I have practiced for many years, so glad you appreciate the effort I go to,” Tony replies, swiping a hand over his cheek and smudging the grease further. “Speaking of questions with terrible answers,” he continues, eyes narrowing, “are you seriously holding _Starbucks_?”

By this point, Bruce has wandered over to perch on the cleanest part of Tony’s workbench available, so he sets one of the cups down in front of the other man and cradles his own in both hands. “I like Starbucks,” he says with a shrug. “Don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my image.”

“What, your eco-friendly, small business supporting, ‘I wanna go live in the Congo and live off three grains of rice a day’ image?” Tony replies with raised eyebrows. “Well and truly ruined, my friend, you’re officially living in the lap of luxury now, working for the biggest tech company in the world, the whole margarita.”

“I don’t think that’s a real saying, Tony,” Bruce points out.

“I’ll make it a saying. I’m famous, everything I say should be a saying.” There’s a pause in the conversation, during which Tony spins the holographic plan of a gauntlet and strips some sort of weapon from it, then continues, “Not that I don’t love to have you down here, jellybean, but don’t you have world-changing formulas to create in the first rate lab I gave you?”

Bruce starts, a little guilty. “Oh! Yeah, about that. I’m getting some weird results on this bacteria I’ve been cultivating. Do you have some time to come check it out? I don’t know if it’s your instruments, or-“

“You kidding me?” Tony tosses the screwdriver he’d been rolling between his hands and heads for the door, not bothering to check if Bruce is following. “My instruments are flawless, if you’re getting weird results it is entirely your fault.”

“No instrument is flawless,” Bruce starts, but Tony makes a wounded noise and slumps forward against the door, twisting around to look at Bruce with horror and betrayal in his eyes.

“Blasphemy!” he announces, stabbing Bruce in the chest with one finger. “I thought you loved me, baby, I really thought you did. How could you say such a thing to me?”

“Easily and without mercy. I am a heartless person,” Bruce says wryly, and he barely hesitates before reaching out to ruffle Tony’s hair. Tony grins and ducks his head, leaning into Bruce’s hand for just a moment, before pushing the door open and leading the way back to Bruce’s lab, coffees forgotten on the bench behind them.

**\---**

It’s something he’s still not quite used to, the way Tony touches him like it’s nothing, the way he makes Bruce clutch his shoulder and pat his hair and grab his sleeve without even thinking about it.

He’s been living in the tower for a month now, and after Tony had dragged him down to the workshop in the middle of the night and told him the whole story (not that he’d heard more than the very beginning of it), it’s like working together in SHIELD’s lab on the Helicarrier before New York, except… magnified. Every joke and casual touch and fragmented discussion of work is layered over seven months of phone calls, of Tony backtalking his way under Bruce’s skin, of Bruce trusting him a little more every day.

And that trust is mirrored in Tony, in the way they touch now, as if making up for seven months without it.

A few days after Tony told him the whole story, they’d slept together; in the most literal sense, of course. Bruce had been telling some stupid story about a family he’d stayed with for a few days in Kolkata, years ago, sitting against one arm of the comfiest couch in Tony’s workshop, Tony fiddling with a repulsor and sitting just near enough that their arms brush every time Bruce makes a gesture, every time Tony digs into the wiring with a pair of pliers. He barely even notices when Tony starts to lean into him, and by the time he’s finished his story, Tony’s snoring quietly into his upper arm. It’s nice – no one has trusted him enough to sleep near him in a long time, and he hasn’t trusted himself to do the same in even longer. The slow sound of Tony’s breathing is soothing, and he can feel himself drifting off. He doesn’t fight it.

And when he wakes a few hours later, somehow having shifted into a partially horizontal position with Tony clinging to the front of his shirt but otherwise peaceful, he only feels slightly guilty about having taken advantage of the situation. He’s a tactile person, as is Tony, and it’s not like the other man would have had any objections to waking up – like that. But he feels guilty nonetheless; it’s practically his default stage, these days.

Because just one day of working together in a government lab with Tony was enough for his violent alter-ego to want to save the man’s life. Three days spent bouncing around ideas and eating take-away each night was enough to cement Tony as one of the best friends he’s ever had (not that he’s had many). And seven months of Tony being a trusted voice in his ear, constantly offering assistance and bugging him for details about his travels and teasing him in French and falling apart over the phone line, was more than enough for Bruce to feel closer to him than he’d ever felt to anyone before, apart from Betty.

So it’s not exactly surprising that one month of Tony’s casual and near-constant touches is enough to stir up something dangerously close to love. It’s just… highly inconvenient.

\---

It’s half past five in the afternoon, but it feels more like midnight in the tower. The kitchen is dimly lit, and even after four weeks, Bruce still struggles with making the high-tech coffee maker give up its supply of caffeine.

“There’s a trick to it,” a voice interrupts. Bruce stares as manicured hands brush his aside and start to fiddle with the machine. “You just have to – there it goes.”

“Thanks,” he tells Pepper, and watches his mug fill with much-needed coffee.

“Tony’s still in the workshop, I assume.” Her tone is dry, but her eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Yeah. He’s, uh, he’s asleep.” He picks up his mug and takes a sip, watching Pepper watch him. “He told me what happened,” he says suddenly. “Before Christmas, I mean.”

“He said he would. I don’t know if I believed him,” Pepper says, with a small smile. She opens a cupboard and pulls out a mug of her own, and sets to making some more coffee. “Not because I don’t trust him; just because he’s, well…”

“He’s Tony,” Bruce finishes. “I get it. But he really did. I mean,” he admits, ducking his head, “I assume he did. I fell asleep right after he started talking.”

For a moment there’s silence, and he thinks Pepper’s about to yell at him. Then she laughs.

“I can’t say he has that effect on many,” she wonders, and her smile is wide and genuine. “You’re a singular man, Dr Banner.”

“Thanks, I think.” He’s talked to Pepper a lot more, since he came back, and they’re something close to friends, now. Mostly thanks to a few conversations entirely comprised of affectionate complaining about Tony.

“Tony likes you,” she says after a long silence, putting her mug down on the counter. “He trusts you. That’s not something I could say to a lot of people.”

“You, Rhodey, and Happy,” Bruce replies without thought. Pepper nods and looks down, hair falling in strands over her face.

“And you,” she adds. She seems to resolve something, because when she meets his eyes, her features are set. “I trust you with him,” she says simply. “You’re a good man.”

There’s another layer to what she’s saying, the look she’s giving him, but the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet so he’s left standing there silently, until she takes pity on him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

It’s not the same as when Tony does it, but it’s not dissimilar. “You make him happy,” she says instead. “You should keep making him happy.” And this time, he does get what she’s trying to say.

“We’re not – he doesn’t,” he stammers, and he can feel the blood rushing to his face. “Obviously we’re not.”

Pepper just smirks, and squeezes his shoulder. “Bruce. I’m not a genius. I can’t build a particle accelerator out of scraps, and I can’t tell two virus strains from each other, under a microscope. But I am the CEO of an international, multi-billion dollar company, and before that, I was Tony Stark’s personal assistant for years. I am very, _very_ good at people. So, no, I know you’re not. But I also know that you both want to be. And I definitely know that you should.” Satisfied, she puts her mug down on the counter and turns to leave. Bruce stares for a second, eyes wide, before he replies, a little too loud in the stillness of the kitchen.

“You’re just… _okay_ with this?”

Pepper stops, and turns to face him again. The look on her face is one of fond exasperation. “I’ve seen Tony at a lot of low points, in his life. At this stage? I’d be okay with quite a few bad things, if they made Tony happen. This isn’t a bad thing, Bruce,” she continues, gently. “This is a good thing. I am definitely okay with it.”

\---

“Bruce, honey, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there’s no coffee in this lab,” Tony announces. Bruce frowns slightly and fiddles with the focus on the microscope. “Come on, this is a serious problem, aren’t you all about fixing problems?”

“There are at least fifty coffee makers in this building, Tony,” Bruce points out, stepping away from the slides. Inconclusive – and there was no way he’d be getting more info out of them while Tony was here, being his distracting self.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Tony replies, hand pressed flat against his arc reactor. “I am hurt, right down to the depths of my cold black heart.”

“What do you want, Tony?” he grumbles, but it’s an affectionate sort of grumble

“A tall, red-headed birdy told me that you’d had a heart-to-heart in the kitchen without me.” Bruce couldn’t help the guilty jump he does if he’d tried. “Aha! So, what gives, big guy?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles, fingers compulsively returning to the focus knobs on the microscope. “Did she, uh, tell you what we were talking about?”

Tony eyes him, seriousness slipping onto his features as he leans back against Bruce’s workbench. “If I say yes, are you going to freak out and run away to the Congo?”

“It’s a possibility,” Bruce admits. He takes his glasses off and starts to clean them with a corner of his shirt, more for the excuse not to look Tony in the eye than any other reason.

“Well, tough,” Tony says. “Because I for one think it’s a great idea, and Pepper’s on board, so it’s all up to you now. What do you think?”

“Think of what? Of you, leaving Pepper to be with me?” Bruce asks, and for all he thought it’d come out as angry and demanding, he mostly just sounds tired. Tony frowns at him in confusion.

“What? No, why the hell would I do that?” he says, and Bruce feels a strange mix of relief and disappointment before Tony continues, “I’d be with you _and_ with Pepper, obviously. Geez, Bruce, for a worldly guy, you seem pretty confused over a concept as simple as polyamoury.”

All at once, the reality of the situation hits, and Bruce starts laughing. And keeps laughing. Tony looks at him with concern as he collapses against the bench in a fit of giggles.

“Did I break you?” Tony demands over Bruce’s undignified laughter. “Seriously, this is what it takes to make you crack up?”

“No, it’s-“ He takes a deep breath and continues, “I’d made the situation a lot more complicated than it actually is.”

“Common genius problem. ‘S why I keep Pepper around,” Tony says with a shrug. “Well – among other reasons. Surprised she didn’t knock our heads together the day you came back, actually; I’ve been telling her how much I want to make out with you for months now.”

Bruce gives a shocked snort and shakes his head. “What have you been telling her about me?” Bruce demands, but he’s laughing as he does it. Tony’s amused expression softens, and he reaches out to touch Bruce’s arm.

“Well, you know,” he says, fingers encircling Bruce’s wrist, thumb gently rubbing his pulse, “Back in May, I told her that I’d met this gorgeous guy, absolute genius, and he just so happened to turn into a not-so-Jolly Green Giant every time he got mad.” Bruce snorts again and Tony grins, letting go of his wrist to lace their fingers together. “And then later I told her that this really great guy was helping me work through some issues, and how much I trusted him.” Tony shifts so that they’re standing face to face, close enough for their foreheads to be almost touching. “And then, obviously, I told her that he was really hot, and I kind of wanted to make out with him a lot.”

“Tony!” Bruce’s admonishment is half disapproval, half laughter, but he doesn’t move away. Tony takes the opportunity to kiss him on the tip of the nose, swiftly, and before Bruce can react, he continues.

“You know what she said to me? ‘If he makes you this happy, go for it.’ So this is me, going for it.” With that, he leans in and kisses him.

“She really said that?” Bruce mumbles after a moment of shocked stillness, but it’s lost in Tony’s mouth. He tries to pull back, insistent on finishing the conversation, but there’s one hand in his hair and another clutching his hand, anchoring him in place, and the last threads of his reluctance finally snaps. He kisses back earnestly, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist and crowding him back against the workbench, digging his fingertips in.

“We need to talk about this some more,” Bruce groans a minute later. Tony’s teeth scratch at the underside of his jaw and he swallows tightly.

“We were talking about it, we’re done now, I like this much better than talking,” Tony says into his neck, then drags his lips up to meet Bruce’s once more. Bruce shudders and presses closer, arching into the hand Tony has pressed flat on his back, and he has to agree that this is much, _much_ better than talking.

\---

“You were right,” he tells Pepper the next day when he emerges from his lab. Pepper looks him up and down, and Bruce is keenly aware that he doesn’t actually know if the jeans he has on are his or Tony’s.

“I usually am,” she agrees, and takes a slow, triumphant sip of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay. got pulled into an inspiration/motivation black hole, and was only pulled out by shena demanding i write ridiculously fluffy spider-man fic for them (if you enjoyed those fics, thanks for reading!)
> 
> i finally mangled the half-finished wreck that was this chapter into coherency today, so it's quite different to what i was imagining two weeks ago. thanks for sticking with it. i'll try and put up a new fic for the series within the week, so stay tuned


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